To Anyone Willing to Listen
by hannoyoko
Summary: Searching for any news of Mordecai, who has long since disappeared, Rigby doubts that any news of him will pop up. But in a village such as this, many people have stories to tell. You just have to listen. WW2 AU, set in a village in western Switzerland.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: To Anyone Willing to Listen**

 **Rating: T for now, may change to M.**

 **Pairing: Most likely Rigleen and Mordagret.**

 **AU: WW2 AU**

 **POV: Second/Third person**

 **Summary: Searching for his brother and any news of his friend that had long since disappeared, Rigby doubts that any news of either of the two will pop up. But in a village such as this, many people have stories to tell. You just have to listen. WW2 AU, set in a village in western Switzerland.**

 **Additional Notes: This story is part of my WW2 series, that will be taking place in a village in western Switzerland. This story in particular focuses on Mordecai and Rigby. Names for most of the characters have been changed for historical accuracy. Constructive criticism is always appreciated, but I do not urge you to do so.**

 **Thank you.**

They had been together for as long as either of them were able to remember. The two had grown up together, although they weren't with each other year-round. Mordecai and Rigby lived in Spain, although Mordecai and his family only lived there during the summer months. Mordecai and his family would return to France as soon as the school year began, leaving Rigby to his own devices for the remaining nine months.

Not long after Rigby dropped out of school and Mordecai graduated, the war broke out. Rigby fled Spain with his family, moving in with Mordecai and his family in France. Rigby and what was left of his family were welcomed with open arms.

The duo stayed in the French village for an approximated two years before it was invaded due to resistance involvement. Rigby's parents were both shot and killed. Mordecai's mother was a bit frazzled, but was unharmed otherwise. Mordecai's father was shot in the leg, but he was only wounded, and survived.

Although Mordecai decided to stay in France to help rebuild the village, if possible, Rigby fled to Italy to find his brother, Don, and tell him of the fate of their now dead parents. Rigby knew that Don had moved to an Italian village a few years prior, so he decided to start looking for his brother there. He did not find Don, but he did find out from a few people in Anzio that Don had fled to Switzerland as soon as the war had broken out. From there, Rigby decided that he would pursue his brother, going to Switzerland, but that would have to wait, for Rigby decided that he would have to return to France and inform Mordecai of the new information.

When he returned to the village in France, things were different. The emotional state of the village as a whole was rather depressing, a drastic change from what Rigby had known the village to be years prior. Thankfully, Mordecai was still there, but he seemed different as well.

Mordecai would not stop talking about the war. He didn't turn off the radio once, even turning it up a few times to hear it better, focusing intently on the news of the war. Not only that, but he kept asking Rigby about what effect the war had on Italy. He did ask about Don, but Mordecai seemed almost distracted, somewhat, as if he had a difficult task ahead. Finally, Rigby asked him about this, and he got an answer that he did not expect.

Mordecai was leading the resistance in the village now. Before Rigby's departure, it had been a small resistance, consisting of a group of high school students who never caused any serious harm or did anything drastic. Now, however, much of the village, as well as most of the population from surrounding villages were involved as well, doing drastic things such as blowing up cars that transported supplies for the Germans that passed through the area, and killing people. It was a much more serious ordeal by this point.

Rigby could hardly recognize his friend anymore. Mordecai had always been so soft-spoken and was never one for violence. Rigby used to make fun of him for this, back when the duo spent their summers together, their primary issues consisting of having long, fun-filled summers in Spain.

Rigby could hardly recognize his friend anymore, and it scared him a bit.

But after a very, very long conversation, Rigby understood the situation much better. Since Rigby left, people had been getting killed left and right, including Mordecai's parents. Germans had been settling down in the villages, treating the residents like garbage. Those involved in the resistance were very tired farmers who just wanted their homes back and sometimes, it was necessary to get their hands dirty.

Mordecai proposed that Rigby join the resistance, to which Rigby complied.

So the two stayed for an additional two years. An additional violent two years that involved a significant amount of risk-taking. The two were good at what they did, for the most part, and were rather lucky. In these two years, the plan of finding Don in Switzerland was set aside and eventually forgotten.

But, like most people, their luck ran out. Mordecai had disappeared, and Rigby fled the country, abandoning the hopes of finding the other again.

Knowing of the neutral state of the neighboring country Switzerland, Rigby planned on hiding in the country for the remainder of the war. He knew that where he settled would have to be in Switzerland, in a quiet village that was near the Swiss-French border. He eventually settled on a quaint village in Switzerland.

At first glance, Rigby found the village to be rather boring, but eventually, he got to know the people living in the village.

And sometimes, the right people can make a drab city suddenly seem interesting. And with a war that had such a heavy impact all over Europe and the world, people from all over have interesting stories to tell.

You just have to stick around long enough to listen.

 **Chapter Notes: This is just the introduction chapter, meant to solely set the story. I have been itching to start a WW2 series for over a full year, but I have been too lazy to do so. I apologize for not updating for such a long time, but I had to focus on my academics and my personal health. I hope to continue writing for the next week or so, but I will then be preoccupied once again with finals. I apologize for this, but I will try to write a lot in hopes of making up for these lost months.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: To Anyone Willing to Listen**

 **Rating: T for now, may change to M.**

 **Pairing: mentions of mordeson, possibly others.**

 **AU: WW2 AU**

 **POV: Second/Third person**

 **Summary: Sometimes, even the most boring times of a person's life can be made interesting by the people involved. Sometimes, people hold secrets that they are waiting to spill. People can have stories that leave you on the edge of your seat. Thoughts that really make one think. And people are willing to tell these thoughts, these stories, these secrets, to anyone willing to listen.**

 **Additional Notes: This story is part of my WW2 series, that will be taking place in a village in western Switzerland. This story in particular focuses on Mordecai and Rigby. Names for most of the characters have been changed for historical accuracy. Constructive criticism is always appreciated, but I do not urge you to do so.**

 **Thank you.**

Rigby had been staying in this apartment for two weeks now, and there still had not been any news of Mordecai. He had looked all over- listened to the radio constantly, and checked the paper. He was such a crafty resistant that his name should have come up at _least_ once.

And yet, there had been nothing. Possibly because the war had ended. Still, however, Mordecai was important enough that his name had been mentioned a few times on the radio. Well, not his exact name; people only knew him by his cover name. If the war had ended, then surely Mordecai had been released, right? And if he had been released, then he must have been here by now. He had told Rigby to come to this village, because he had connections and knew it would be safe enough. Well, here he was, and still no Mordecai. Mordecai hadn't informed Rigby of who his connections were or how to get into contact with them, so Rigby couldn't just ask anyone for details on Mordecai.

He sure as shit was unprepared. God, he needed a drink. Anything to get his mind off of his current situation. There was a pub across the street, thankfully. He couldn't have chosen a better spot. However, this apartment didn't even belong to him, technically. Mordecai had somehow pulled some strings in this area and gotten himself this apartment. Rigby wasn't sure how, when, or why Mordecai got it, but he had heard him mention it a few times.

He would have to look harder. Rigby knew that plenty of people living in the city frequented the pub across the street, but he had never himself entered the establishment. However, he decided that the pub was a good enough place to start, so he would begin his search there.

When Rigby entered the pub, it was as if the locals knew he wasn't from around here. The door slammed shut behind him as he entered, and everyone stopped what they were doing to stare at him. Everyone he saw had the same look about them. Narrow cheekbones, hollow, stretched out faces, dark circles under their eyes. Lanky, too. They all looked like farmers, like they truly did belong in this small village and wouldn't even consider leaving. They all looked mean as hell, glaring at Rigby as if emphasizing that he didn't belong here and that he should leave. He tried ignoring them as he approached the bartender, but it sure was difficult to ignore so many crude faces glaring at you, silently judging your every movement.

And Rigby knew, like the rest of them, that he didn't belong, like a flower in a vegetable garden. A weed, more like. Something that seemed to irritate people for just _being_. Rigby knew damn well that he didn't belong. Not only had he just come here abruptly, but he didn't bother to interact with any of the locals for approximately one month. Rigby wasn't even sure that he would be able to speak to any of them. He knew Spanish and French fluently, yes, but he didn't know a drop of German. He wasn't even sure what language was spoken around these parts, but he knew that this village definitely wouldn't be a Spanish-speaking one. He hoped that the locals spoke French. Mordecai had taught him the language while growing up together.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Rigby reached the bar. He pulled out a stool, and sat down. The stool scraped across the floor, and the glares seemed to accentuate, as if this outsider making any noise irritated them even more. Rigby wouldn't be surprised.

The bartender set down the glass he was polishing, and walked over to him.

" You don't look like you're from around here." The bartender said in French. He looked plenty more friendly than the others. He was a white yeti, tall and rather muscular. He looked like the type to be able to snap one in half like a toothpick, but not the type to try doing so.

" No," Rigby replied. " Spain."

" So you don't speak much French?" The bartender replied.

" No, I do. Spent some time in France."

" What brings you here?"

" I'm looking for someone."

" Oh." The bartender nodded. " Name's Skips. You?"

" Rigby."

" So, who are you looking for, exactly?"

" I'd rather not tell."

" Oh." Skips sighed. " So you're one of _those_ types. Let me guess, you were involved in a resistance against the Germans and it blew up in your face." Skips said.

Rigby nodded. Must have had quite a few resistance members come here.

" Well, you're not the first one involved in a resistance to blow in here, and you definitely will not be the last. So, tell me. Who are you looking for?"

" Anyone come here recently from France?" Rigby asked.

" Oh, yeah, lots of people." Skips says.

" Anyone with the surname of _Marquis_?"

" I know of _one_. Name was Mordecai." Rigby nods, prompting him to continue.

" He came through here a few times, mostly to deliver information up north. Never provided specifics, which is understandable."

" Why did he pass through here so often? I get that Switzerland's neutral territory, but why this village specifically? He mentioned having connections, but do you know who?"

Skips nods.

" Who were they?"

" I shouldn't tell you. That's somewhat confidential."

" Dammit." Rigby mutters. " Is there any way I can convince you to tell me?"

Someone sits down next to Rigby. " I'll have the usual." Rigby recognizes the voice. He looks over, and sure enough, he's correct in his assumption. It's a fellow resistance member. He had been rather important to the resistance, and was close with Mordecai. However, something came up and he ended up leaving. Rigby never knew where or why, but one of those questions was now answered, seeing as how the man was sitting right next to him.

" Benson?" Rigby says in disbelief. Benson looks over at him with a neutral expression, and his eyes widen as the realization of who it is hits him.

" Rigby," He begins, " how did you get here?"

Rigby looks over at Skips. " Is this one of the connections you weren't telling me about?" Skips nods, and Rigby refocuses his attention on Benson.

" I fled here a month or so ago."

" Why did you flee? Did something happen?"

" I-yeah." Rigby leans in closer to Benson, dropping his voice to a whisper. " Someone provided the krauts with a tipoff and they captured Mordecai. Figured I was next so I ran. However, since the war's ended, I expected him to have gotten here by now."

" _Shit_ ," Benson's voice has dropped to a whisper as well, " he got captured so you just _fled_? You didn't try to, oh I dunno, save him or something?"

" Benson, I-" Rigby starts, but Benson interrupts him.

" You didn't think about how everyone else would react? You and Mordecai were damn important assets to that resistance, so how do you think everyone did when they found Mordecai captured and you missing?"

" That wasn't important!" Rigby defends. " They were probably going to come after me next, and then what? Mordecai and I both knew plenty of important information. With both of us captured, it still wouldn't have helped anyone. Who knows how long Mordecai would have lasted before mentioning me?"

" You think he would do that?"

" Benson, I _know_ he would have done that. You didn't see anyone after being captured by the gestapo, but I have. They're shells of themselves. The gestapo _ruins_ them. And these men aren't as highly ranked as Mordecai is. Do you have any idea how terribly they must have treated him just for information?"

Benson nervously runs a hand through his hair. " I suppose you do know more than me. I didn't think of it that way. Sorry."

Rigby shrugs. The two are silent for a while.

" So why did you come here, of all places?" Benson asks.

" You mean the village? Mordecai mentioned that he had connections here, but he never mentioned who. I assume you're one of his connections."

" I mean, I guess? After I left I was never involved with the resistance. I talked to Mordecai when he came around, but it was never about the resistance."

" Oh. But do you know of anyone else he might have connections with around here?"

" I know a few." Benson says. " But it's not something we should really discuss here."

Rigby rolls his eyes. " Benson, the war's over. There's no need to maintain secrecy anymore."

" Oh, I know that. But I'm not sure that everyone is on the same side here, politically."

Rigby glances around. " Oh. Then where were you thinking?"

" I have a lot of information on the other connections Mordecai had all over Europe back at my apartment."

" Alright. Let's go, then." The two stand and exit the pub.

 **Additional Notes**

 _I know it's been a while since I've updated! Sorry about that! I'll try to make this explanation as short as possible! In all honesty, I've had this written for a while, but as soon as school picked back up last January I became overwhelmed and was unable to update. During the summer, I was busy with my job. However, I was able to write some and plan out this entire story. I wasn't able to finish due to some minor writer's block. School picked back up, and I've been in school ever since, so I've been busy with that. However, chapter three should be up very soon!_

 _I promise I won't abandon this story. I know I've been terrible about that in the past, but I'm very passionate about this story. I went into this one much more prepared than I've been in the past. It might take a while, but I will complete it eventually._

 _Thank you for your patience!_


	3. Chapter 3

" Goddamn, am I glad to see a familiar face." Benson says once he and Rigby are outside of the pub and walking down the dirt road towards what Rigby assumes is the direction of Benson's apartment. " The only person that would talk to me in this godforsaken town was Skips."

" What's wrong with Skips?" Rigby asks. While he didn't know much about the man, seeing as the two had just met mere minutes ago, from what he had seen thus far, Skips seemed nice enough.

" Nothing. It's just boring when you have so few people to speak to."

" Oh." Rigby replies. " So you haven't had a good time up here, from what I've gathered?"

" Well, there are bad things and good things. For starters, I didn't know anyone here, and none of the locals seemed keen on getting to know me. That's how they treat all foreigners that pass through here. They're such a tight-knit group that anything different bothers them. The only people who I can call anything other than acquaintances are a select few. And before you ask, no, they weren't in the resistance with you."

" Oh," Rigby says as the two stop in front of a two-story brick building, " that's a shame."

" Yeah, I suppose it is. However," Benson says, opening the door, " I know where to find most of them." The two step inside the building. The room that greets them appears rather cluttered, littered with stacks of paper. There is an area of the room dedicated to mailboxes for the various tenants. Across the room from where they are standing is a narrow hallway. Rigby can see that it splits off into another room, as well as a flight of stairs that likely lead to the apartments.

Rigby follows Benson down the hallway and up the stairs. The hallway is so narrow that they have to walk single-file. The stairs aren't much better. Rigby assumes that the apartment complex was built some twenty years ago, before the great depression. However, this town likely didn't have much money to begin with, and as a result, slapped something together that required the least amount of money possible.

Once they reach the second floor, the two walk down another hallway. This hallway is less narrow.

They pass three doors before stopping once again. As Benson pulls a key out of his pocket, the door from across the hall swings open. A man stands in the doorway and leans against the doorframe leisurely, a glass of beer in hand. He is a green vending machine, around Benson's height. He takes a swig of his beer before speaking.

" Hey, Benson! Long time no see! It's been, what, twenty minutes or so?" The man laughs. He doesn't sound like he is from around this area, but rather the British Isles. Rigby doesn't know much about that area, but he assumes the man to be from Ireland.

Benson ignores the man, as if this were an everyday occurrence.

The man notices Rigby. " Who's your friend?" He asks, gesturing towards Rigby with his beer bottle.

" Rigby." Rigby introduces himself. That was one thing he _could_ do, believe it or not. " Might I ask you the same question?"

" Gene." The man replies. " And we both obviously know who the dumbass struggling to open his goddamned shitty ass door is." He gestures to Benson, who turns around exasperated

" It's not my fault this door has a terrible lock!"

" We have the same conversation every damn day, Ben. I always tell you to just kick it open, but you never listen. The locks don't do jack shit, anyways."

" First of all, never call me Ben again. Secondly, I'd never kick the door down, as that would break it, and replacing the door would be expensive."

" God, you're boring." Gene mutters. " You struggle with the same lock each day, but you never do anything about it."

" That's because I have more important things to do." Benson says, trying his luck with the lock again. This time, he gets it open. He opens the door, and the two enter the apartment. Benson shuts the door behind him.

" God, I hate him." Benson mutters under his breath. " The things I have to put up with that concern him each day…" He trails off, rolling his eyes.

Rigby looks around the apartment. He finds himself overwhelmed by the sheer amount of things littering the room. Boxes and stacks of papers clutter the room, leaving barely any space for anything else. However, there is a system of narrow pathways throughout the room, making it possible to get from one room to another. Rigby can see that the apartment is equipped with a kitchenette, and there are two other rooms branching off of this one.

" Jeez," Rigby mutters, " Quite the collection of papers and boxes you've got here. What's it all for, anyways?"

" It was all resistance things. Mordecai kept a lot of his stuff here. There was no need worrying about the enemy finding any of it."

" How many apartments did Mordecai get up here? And how, exactly?"

" Just one, but I'm not staying in it. Are you?"

" Yeah. How'd you get this one, then?" Rigby asks.

" I got it myself. I was saving up some money for after the war, but things change, I suppose."

" Why'd Mordecai keep all his stuff here?"

" Originally, he didn't. But I moved everything to my apartment in case someone that wasn't one of the higher ups within the resistance showed up and saw everything." Benson says.

" Oh. Must have taken a long time to move everything."

Rigby picks up a piece of paper. It's a letter of some sort. He immediately recognizes Mordecai's large, scrawling handwriting. To any normal person, the letter would appear as gibberish, but he could easily decode the letter in his sleep. It's a plan for an attack they carried out a year ago. He assumes that lots of their old plans were still here.

Rigby rolls his eyes. " thought he burned most of this shit."

" Well, no, that would be rather stupid." Benson says calmly. " Documents such as these should be kept. If there were to be another war like this one-"

" Which there won't be." Rigby interrupts.

" But if there was another one, we would have something to go back to." Benson finds what he's looking for. He pulls something out of a box. Whatever it is, it is rolled up. He clears everything off a nearby table and unrolls the paper. As Rigby approaches the table, he figures out what it is. It's a map with points circled in pen.

" Mordecai used to trust me with a bunch of data. Eventually, I started putting that data into this map." Benson says. " You see these points?" He is next to Rigby now. He points at one of the circles. " All of these are our connections. The resistance connections, I mean. The red circles are other resistances. At least, the ones we found out about. The blue circles are people not involved in resistance work, but rather, people we can trust if we ever need to lay low or flee. Additionally, there's a list with names and photos of people we can trust, as well as the cities they live in." Benson says. " I'm surprised he never told you about this."

Rigby rolled his eyes. Had to rub salt in that wound, didn't he? " Yeah, well, he told me where everyone was, so it doesn't matter if he showed it to me or not," He lies.

" No he didn't." Benson says, and the two are silent.

" It's stupid to have something like this, anyways. I get that it's in neutral territory, but what if the krauts decided to invade, anyways? What if they found this? All of those people would be captured and tortured."

" Yes, but that didn't happen."

" I _know_ , Benson, but what if that _did_ happen?"

" But it didn't." Rigby rolls his eyes and lets out an exasperated sigh. This is why the two of them never really got along. They couldn't hold a conversation without it escalating into argument.

" Look, it doesn't matter, okay? We both want to find Mordecai, so that should be our main focus right now." Benson says. " I think we should start out with the connections around town. I can show you around town and introduce you to those who were in the resistance, and then we can go from there."

Rigby nods. " That's fine. Look, Benson, I really appreciate everything, but I think I'm going to head home." He was damn tired all of a sudden. Being around Benson for too long was exhausting.

" Alright." Benson replies. " We can figure it out tomorrow."

" Yeah," Rigby says, " I'll see you tomorrow." He walks toward the door.

" Bye." Rigby leaves the apartment and walks home.

Finally, he had found someone who would help him. It had taken a while, but Rigby knew that once you found one person, others began popping up like mushrooms after rain.

He knew he was closer to finding Mordecai.

 _ **Additional Notes**_

 _ **This story might get confusing at times in terms of what language is being spoken. Usually, however, it is French. However, some characters know languages other than that one.**_

 _ **Rigby knows Spanish and French.**_

 _ **Benson knows English and French.**_

 _ **Mordecai knows English, Spanish, and French.**_


	4. Chapter 4

**The next update isn't going to be posted until the end of December (either right before Christmas or after). I start finals next week, and I really need to focus on that at the moment. I hope this chapter makes up for that. At the very earliest, December 20th. But after that I should be able to write a lot!  
Don't forget to favorite, follow, and review if you enjoy the story! I really appreciate it!**

The next few days were all the same. He woke up around the same time, worked the same hours, and got pestered by Benson for the same amounts of time. He knew that he should be glad, he was getting closer to finding Mordecai and all, but it was so _boring_.

After a few days, though, someone different walked into the pub around midday. A tall robin, turning the heads of a few as she approaches the bar.

" I'll have the usual." She says, not once looking at Rigby and instead focusing her attention to a notebook.

" Which would be…?" Rigby says.

" Oh, you're not Skips!" The robin says after looking away from her notebook. " Sorry about that. I'll have a Vermouth-Cassis."

" Alright." Rigby prepares the drink and slides it to her.

" Thanks." The robin says, taking a sip. She returns to her notebook and Rigby watches her. " I'm Margaret, by the way."

" Rigby. It's a pleasure."

Today was a slow enough day that he could afford to take a break for a few minutes. He didn't really feel like speaking to any of the patrons.

" What are you writing about?" Rigby asks.

" I'm writing an article on the war ending."

" That's real interesting."

" Thank you. Problem is, I'm having trouble finding people to interview. Don't think I'd find many interesting people here, anyways."

" Oh, you just have to know where to look." Rigby says. " But you have to do a lot of digging first."

" You're not from around here, are you?"

" Damn, is it really that obvious?"

The robin giggles. " Not really. I've lived here for a while, and I would've seen you before. Where are you from?"

" Spain, originally, but I lived in France before coming here."

" Fascinating! I've always wanted to visit France. I'm from England."

" So what made you decide to come here?"

" I wasn't the one to make the decision. My friend Eileen was, actually. She convinced me to come here. It's safer here than it was overseas, you know, with the blitz and all. It was hard leaving, though."

" Yeah. I know what you mean." Rigby says.

Someone else enters the pub. Benson. He approaches the bar and sits next to Margaret. He nods at Rigby in acknowledgement.

" How have you been, Margaret?" Benson asks. " You never really come down here."

" Yeah, well, today felt like a good day. I woke up and got the hunch that I'd find someone who'd be willing to allow me to interview them."

" There are plenty of people around here with stories to tell, you know. Plenty of them."

" Rigby was just telling me about that."

" Oh, was he now?" Benson looks at Rigby, and then back at Margaret again. " Well, I'm sure he's got his own story he can tell. Pretty interesting one, too."

Rigby glares at him. He didn't feel like talking about it. Nobody needed to know about his life. That was for him to know, and him alone. The world had no business knowing about it.

" Would you mind if I interviewed you? I don't want to pressure you. But if it's alright with you, that'd be grand." Margaret says with a smile.

Rigby wants to turn her down. He really should. He can't just go around telling people about his life. It was dangerous. He couldn't talk about the resistance. Or Mordecai.

And _especially_ not about his family. No. That subject was absolutely off-limits. It wouldn't do them any respect.

But… Rigby looked at Margaret. She was trying to disguise her desperation, but she was doing a damn poor job of it. He doubted she had found many people to interview, if any. This was the look of someone who was desperate to find _anything_ , even if it was a scrap of information.

And he sure knew that feeling well.

He sighed. " Alright. You can interview me." The robin beamed, expression washing over her expression.

" Thank you very much. You have no idea how grateful I am."

" _But_ ," Rigby says, " we can't do it now. I'm working for the day, so wait until I've closed up the pub. And you will go by my hours. Don't press into details too much, I won't tell you everything."

" Alright." Margaret says. " That's fine. That's great, actually. I'll come back in a few hours." She stands and exits the pub, going off to God knows where.

" So what's her story?" Rigby asks Benson after Margaret is long gone.

" That's hers to tell, not mine." Benson says.

" But-"

" She'll tell you if she wants to. I'm not here to talk about that." Benson says.

" What are you here to talk about, then?"

" Well, I have a letter I need you to decode."

" Easy. Is that it?" Rigby says.

" Should be. It'll probably be in English."

" Benson, I don't know English."

" Yeah. I know that." Benson says.

" So how in the hell am I supposed to decode it?"

" You can just show me how to do it."

" I guess I can." Rigby says. " But you might not get it. It's difficult to explain."

" Alright. So you want to work through it together, then?"

" That's easiest."

" Okay." Benson says.

" So, where do you want to start? You can talk about whatever you want." Margaret asks. The pub had been closed for a while now, the last few patrons having stumbled out an hour or so ago. Now it was just Rigby, Margaret, and Benson remaining. Rigby hadn't wanted Benson present while Margaret interviewed him, but the man was stubborn and refused to leave. Rigby had finally been forced to accept it. Rigby was now helping Benson to decode the letter, which Rigby thought wouldn't take much time at all. However, it was a task proving to be difficult.

" I don't know. Where do you think I should start?" Rigby says.

" Most people start out by saying where they were from in interviews. What was your childhood like?"

" I'm not going to talk about that."

" Gee, was it really that bad?" Margaret asks. " Sorry. I won't pry."

" Are you really sure you know what you're doing?" Benson asks. They had been trying at this for probably two hours, but they had yet to decode a single word. All of Mordecai's letters were decoded the same way, but the key to decoding the letters was always different, depending on who the receiver was intended to be. Each individual person had a special song, which Mordecai had set as the key. Rigby's had been _Los Cuatro Generales_. However, Benson couldn't figure out what his was.

" I'm sure I do. Maybe he's using a different coding method for this one. Did you guys ever use a special system to decode your letters?"

" Maybe. I don't remember." Benson stands. " I'm going out for a smoke." He leaves.

" Alright." Rigby says. " Sorry about that."

" Who's the letter from?" Margaret asks.

" My friend. I shouldn't tell you his name, it's confidential." Rigby says.

" Is it Mordecai?"

" How'd you know about him?" Rigby asks, both curious and slightly wary.

" He visited a lot. We used to date off and on for a little while. But I knew that it was never meant to be. He had eyes for someone else." Margaret smiles. " He's been trying to decode that same letter for months, you know. Don't feel too guilty if you can't decode it."

" Well, alright. If you know Mordecai, that makes this interview plenty easier. You know, you'll still have to change his name, though. Mine too."

" Yeah. You two were in the resistance together, right?" Margaret asks.

" ...right." Margaret writes something in her notebook.

" How did you two meet?"

" His family came down to Spain each summer. We met when we were kids."

" I remember him talking about that. He never mentioned you, though, strangely enough. Were you too close?"

" Yeah. You could say that."

" And where in Spain are you from?"

Rigby is silent for a few moments. He really didn't like talking about this part of his life. " I'd rather not- if you're okay with that."

" Okay." Margaret says. " That's alright. How'd you get involved with the resistance?"

" Mordecai and I already knew each other before the war. He was really the driving force that got me involved."

Margaret writes something else into her notebook. She opens her mouth, about to say something else, but Benson storms into the pub.

" Lily of the lamplight!" Benson exclaims. Margaret and Rigby look at him questioningly. " The song. That's what the code was!"

Rigby sighed. " So you want to decode this letter immediately, I'm guessing?"

" Well- why aren't you more excited? Of course we need to decode this letter right now!" Benson sits down in the chair he sat in before and shifts the letter towards him. He picks up a pen and uncaps it, writing something on another piece of paper.

" And you're sure that this song is the one he intends for your letters?" Rigby asks.

" I'm certain of it." Benson looks hopeful now. " It has to be." He slides a piece of paper to Rigby, as well as the letter. Rigby looks at the new paper, titled _Lily of the Lamplight_ in large curvy letters at the top.

" How do you decode the letters again?" Benson asks. " You don't know English, so it'll just be easier if I translate it myself."

" Alright." Rigby says. " But you let me read it too."

" I'll be sure to translate it." Benson says.

" So the format to decode each of Mordecai's letters was the exact same. However, there was always one key difference, and that was the song used. Yours is _Lily of the Lamplight_ , if your assumptions are correct. Now to decode these letters, you need the lyrics to the song written down somewhere. It'll make this much easier. I'm surprised you were able to recall the entire song."

" I know it by heart." Benson mutters. Rigby's tempted to poke fun at Benson after that remark, but he bites it back. Wouldn't do any good to piss Benson off.

" So the numerical order of the letters is the order that they show up in the song the first time. Does that make sense?"

" The first word in the song is 'Underneath'. So the letter 'U' would be the number one?" Benson asks.

" That's right."

" But this letter doesn't have any numbers."

" Because Mordecai would then put the numbers back into letters. Whatever the first letter was in the song- in this case, the letter 'U', it would become the first letter of the alphabet." Rigby says.

" Oh, alright! So every 'U' in the letter would become an 'A'?"

" Yes."

" Well, thank you." Benson takes the letter and song lyrics back, and gets to work.

" Sorry about that, Margaret. Do you want to get back to the interview?"

" Actually, I'm rather tired. Do you mind if I head home? You'll be here tomorrow, won't you?" Margaret stands, holding her notebook to her chest.

" Maybe." Rigby says. " Probably, actually. Do you want me to walk you home?"

" No, I'm fine." Margaret replies. " Thanks, though." She walks towards the door. " See you tomorrow." She says as she opens the door and walks out.

It is silent for a while longer before Benson speaks again.

" Oh, fuck." Benson mutters, horrified.

" What?" Rigby asks. Benson doesn't reply. " Is it really that bad? Benson, say something!"

" Finland." Benson whispers. He's gone ghostly pale now. " He went to Finland."

" You're bullshitting. Hand it here."

Benson feebly hands it over and puts his head in his hands.

The letter has been translated. Rigby is surprised. He didn't think Benson would translate it before acting in such a fashion. He had to read it to translate it, after all.

He reads the letter.

 _Benson-_

 _I hope Switzerland is tolerable. I know this isn't an ideal situation, but nothing about this war is ideal. I address this letter to you, and you only. I know how you worry, so I wanted to let you know where I was going.  
I am going to Finland, Ben. Claudia has not replied to anything for months, which just isn't her. I'm terribly worried, as she is a close friend of mine and a close informant. One of the few people I can trust up in that area.  
The trip should be a safe one. I have plenty of connections that will ensure my travel is safe. I know you hate me leaving so often, knowing the risks of each trip. I know you likely cannot understand. But the krauts killed my parents, Ben. And they've killed so many other innocent people. Imagine if they killed me, too. You'd want revenge, right?  
This war is a terrible one. It has taken the humanity from many. But I am glad this war has not changed you, Ben. I am so relieved you are the man I fell in love with many years ago. And I hope your dreams are still the same, Ben. Because once this war ends, I will do my utter damndest to ensure they come true. Can you imagine? Just us sailing all over the world together? Seeing all those sights, like that one British brod sang about in her song? You know the one, I'm sure. You listen to her so damn often. Whenever I hear her voice, I am reminded of you so much that it pains me.  
We are so close to the end, Ben. I can feel it. Stay safe. I will see you soon.  
-Mordecai_

Rigby feels his stomach drop to the floor.

" Sweet Jesus." Rigby whispers. " He did go to Finland."

 **Additional Notes**

 **(1). Vermouth-Cassis** :A Vermouth-Cassis is a fruity cocktail.

 **(2). The Blitz** : The Blitz (Blitzkreig) lasted from September of 1940 to May of 1941. During this period, Germany bombed Britain (London specifically). Approximately forty-three thousand people were killed during the Blitz.

 **(3). Los Cuarto Generales** : _Los Cuatro Generales_ was a Spanish folk song from the Spanish Civil War (1936-1939). I'll talk more about this song and the importance of the Spanish Civil War (and how it affected Rigby) later on.

 **(4). Lily of the Lamplight** : _Lily of the Lamplight_ is another version of the popular song _Lili Marlene_. The song was recorded by Lale Andersen in 1938 and first became popular in 1941. The German song was first popular throughout Nazi-occupied Europe, and spread out to the rest of Europe, including Britain. When it became popular in Britain, English lyrics were written by Tommie Connor, and Vera Lynn recorded these lyrics, entitling the song _Lily of the Lamplight_. The version I am using is Vera Lynn's, obviously.

 **(5). Finland:** I won't talk about this point too much here, as it will be addressed in the next chapter. The reason why Rigby and Benson are so distraught over this is more of a geographical one. If you look at a map of Europe, you see that it's a pretty long distance from France to Finland. To make matters worse, near the end of the war (which is around the time Mordecai left on this trip), much of Europe was Nazi-occupied territory. If you look at a map, France is Nazi-occupied territory (which has been addressed). Additionally, all of its neighbors (with the exceptions of Spain and Switzerland) were Nazi-allied or Nazi-occupied territories. Switzerland was neutral, but it was also surrounded by Nazi-occupied/allied territories. So Mordecai would have to go through a lot of enemy territory before reaching Finland (which was considered to be an ally of Germany during the war because of the wars with the Soviet Union).

 **New characters introduced:**

 **Margaret:** Margaret will make a return. She's an aspiring journalist who fled England during the War (due to the Blitz). Margaret knows English and French.

 **Eileen (mentioned):** Eileen will come up a few more times. I don't want to say too much about her yet, though! I don't want to spoil anything! She's fluent in English and knows a bit of French.

 **Mordecai's Coding System:** I do hope this one made sense! It took a while trying to come up with something that would work. I will post a tutorial of some sort if anyone is interested! I just have to make one and find a place to post it. I'll probably provide a link to that when it does get posted.

 **Mordecai's Letter:** I like to see Mordecai as someone who's a hopeless romantic, and he really likes to act overly dramatic in his letters, especially with Benson. Mordecai and Benson are very much in love with each other (although they have to be very secret about it, as the 40s was a very conservative time compared to the present). Mordecai and Benson had a lot of songs that they listened to together (many of which Mordecai insisted was 'their song'), so it was difficult for Benson to pinpoint which one it was exactly. _Lily of the Lamplight_ is the last song he thought Mordecai would go with (Mordecai wasn't too fond of the song), but it does fit. Benson just had to think about it for a little while.

 **Rigby's Childhood:** This is something I am excited to talk about. However, we haven't gotten quite there yet. I will begin revealing things soon, though!


	5. Chapter 5

**I know I said I would update this in December, but I had some private matters and health issues that prevented me from editing. Sorry! This chapter's longer than the last, so I hope that makes up for it!  
So Regular Show ended yesterday. I'm… not sure how to feel about it. I'm glad the characters got a happy ending and J.G. got to end it on his own terms and all, but I just feel like part of me is missing now, you know? Sorry, I don't mean to be dramatic or anything. It's just really weird. I've been watching the show since the very beginning and I pretty much grew up watching it. The show's been around for over one-third of my life, and I'm not sure what's going to be my next interest now that it's over. However, I still really like the show and everything, so I hope to be writing for a while longer. I'm definitely going to finish this story at the very least. I'm glad the characters all got a happy ending, though! I cried watching the finale (I knew it was going to happen, I'm such a sap).  
I'm sure you've skipped this, but if you read the whole thing, thanks. And sorry for rambling on like this. It's not something I try to do too often.**

" _Finland_?" Rigby asks. " But I thought the gestapo captured him. You sure you translated it right?"

" I'm certain of it. What else could it say?" Benson says.

" Dunno," Rigby replies, " but the gestapo took him. I watched it."

" What?"

" You heard what I said."

Benson turns, giving Rigby his full attention. " Why are you here, then?"

" I thought-"

" Were you planning on telling me about this?"

" Yeah, but-" Rigby attempts to explain himself again to no avail.

" So you've been lying to me this whole time? You knew where he was."

" Well, yeah-"

" And you didn't have the courage to tell me. Hm?" Benson's pissed now. " You could've told me all this time and you never did." He shakes his head. " Typical. I knew you were hiding something from me. That's how you've always been, hasn't it?"

" Why are you being such a dick now?" Rigby's angry too. " If you'd just let me explain myself, you'd understand! But you won't keep your trap shut. Typical. That's how you've always been, hasn't it?"

" Alright. _Fine_!" Benson crosses his arms. " Explain yourself, then. I'm all ears!" He gestures to Rigby. " Go on, now. Get going."

" _Finally_. So long after you'd left, I was in the pub one night. You know the one the krauts used to frequent. _Coq bleu_. I was there one night listening around for any information I could pick up. You know how it can be. Sometimes people have too much to drink and a few things slip. I was listening in for any information I could find, because you weren't there to do your job anymore. Well, one of them mentioned something about getting a tipoff about the leader of the resistance. How they were going to get him soon. And they seemed so damn certain that they knew."

" But how did you know they were right?"

" Lucky guess." Rigby admits. " I wasn't going to risk asking who it was, because then they'd get suspicious. So after a while, I went and told Mordecai. He seemed a bit worried, but told me not to worry about it. The next morning, I watched a couple krauts go into his apartment from across the street. I quit watching when all three of them went into his apartment."

" So you didn't see them drag him out?" Benson asks. Rigby shakes his head.

" So there's a chance he got away." Benson says.

" I guess." Rigby had considered it before, but he didn't think Mordecai would just run like that without telling Rigby where he'd be going. " I thought he'd be here, though. It would make sense he wouldn't come back to France after getting away. But why he wouldn't be here, I don't know. When I came up here, I thought he'd be waiting for me here. Obviously, I was wrong."

They're both silent for a moment before Rigby asks, " did he date that letter, by any chance? Or do you remember when he delivered it?"

" Few months ago."

" That's a bit vague." Rigby says.

" Yeah. I dunno, maybe last April?" Benson looks at the ceiling as if his answer would be up there somewhere if he looked hard enough.

" Just give me the damn letter." Rigby reaches out for it and Benson gives it to him. He stares at it, looking for a date.

Lo and behold, there it was, in the top left corner.

 _April 17, 1945_.

The night he'd last seen Mordecai.

And while that's a small victory, it still means that Mordecai wasn't definitely alive. Getting to Finland was one of the worst voyages a resistance member could make. It was risky, getting through all those kraut-occupied countries. Especially for a resistance member like him.

And if the gestapo knew who he was and that he'd escaped, they'd pass the word on to the rest of Europe just to find him.

Once the realization hits him, Rigby suddenly feels worse. Sure, they knew that the gestapo back in France hadn't captured him, but that didn't mean he wasn't captured elsewhere.

Or worse.

Mordecai could be anywhere at this time.

And sure, Rigby could just assume that Mordecai had gotten to Finland safely. But if that was the case, he'd have returned a long time ago.

" So?" Benson asks. " Is there a chance he's alive?"

Rigby can't face him. Can't speak, either, really.

" Rigby?"

He pauses for a moment in a feeble attempt to collect himself. " He got away."

" Good! So let's go get him, then!"

" But," Rigby says. " If he went to Finland, he should be back by now."

Benson's shift in mood is palpable. He doesn't say anything else. Just stares at Rigby, utterly despondent like a wife who'd just gotten a death notification.

The room felt too small suddenly, as if it couldn't contain all of his thoughts and emotions. He needed to get out. He needed air. Immediately. He stood, shakily, and stumbled out of the pub, near knocking over a few chairs on his way. Benson might have called out behind him, but he didn't pay attention.

He looked around. There was nobody in sight, but it felt like too many people were nearby. Anyone could see or hear him. He needed to get somewhere else. He ran away from the pub in search of a quieter place.

After running for a few minutes, Rigby collapsed to the ground, panting.

That familiar feeling hit him again. Mordecai, someone who was practically family, in fact had been family for years now, was probably dead. The person to take him in when he had nothing- gone. All of the hope he had had since coming here- gone. Just like that.

He was alone again.

It was a feeling that he hadn't felt for years.

" Fuck," Rigby breathed, curling into a ball and putting his face into the soft ground. He began slamming his fist into the ground, but it didn't do anything to help. Something rolled down his face- sweat or tears, Rigby didn't know or care. Maybe it was both.

He was there for a while, at a loss. What else could he do? Sure, this solved the mystery of Mordecai's disappearance, but what did it matter when he was dead? Where was he going to go now? What would he do for the rest of his life? Rigby knew he couldn't stay here, not with Benson breathing down his neck. He wasn't going to spend the rest of his life here. He had to move on at some point. This situation was meant to be temporary. Sure, he wasn't considering marrying and starting a family, but _anything_ was better than this.

If only Mordecai were here. If Mordecai had never left, he wouldn't be in this situation. He wouldn't be squabbling in self-pity in some Swiss farming village. He wouldn't have even left France in the first place.

A fresh wave of anguish hits him. He screams incoherent gibberish in an attempt to convey all of his pain and suffering.

He didn't know what else to do. He's panicking now, his breaths coming out in quick, pained gasps. What was his purpose now? He hadn't felt this way for a long time. Not since Guernica. But even then, Mordecai had been there. Had come to his rescue, brought him to France. Gave him a purpose and let him forget about whatever else had happened. Then the war had started up. Rigby had done whatever the resistance asked of him. The resistance had been his life. It was his purpose. And after that, up until this point, his purpose had been looking for Mordecai.

And now that that was done with… now what? He had his answer, but Rigby was sure Benson didn't. Rigby was sure Benson wanted to go look for Mordecai, make sure he was _really_ gone or maybe even alive, because Benson was a damn optimistic bastard who hung onto every last shred of hope when all signs were pointing towards letting go.

Rigby hated him for it. Optimism didn't have a place in these situations. And in this one, it wasn't going to pan out well.

So Benson would want to go to Finland. Would try to drag Rigby along for the ride. But there was no way in _hell_ he was going anywhere with Benson. He was done. Going to look for Mordecai in Finland was just rubbing salt into a wound that had been there for months.

And he didn't think he'd be able to handle Benson when he realized that Mordecai wasn't coming back. He'd never been good with emotions, and especially not with Benson's. Their personalities had always clashed. The only thing preventing them from killing each other was Mordecai. The mediator.

Rigby's not sure how long he's there for, but it doesn't feel like long enough. He couldn't will himself to do anything, anyways, so it wasn't like there was any use in doing anything else.

Rigby must have fallen asleep at some point because he wakes up in a place that is most definitely not where he last remembered. He has a hard time opening his eyes, crusted shut from his tears.

So he _had_ been crying. How embarrassing.

It takes a while to open them, and he finds that he is in an apartment. Benson's apartment, he realizes when he is more awake. Meaning that Benson most likely found him and brought him here. He sits up, tossing the fleece blanket off of him. He stretches, yawning. Benson is nowhere to be found, to Rigby's relief. He wasn't sure that he'd be able to face Benson just yet. He might start trying to talk about Mordecai, trying to come up with a plan to go look for him.

And God knows Rigby wouldn't want to do that. Couldn't.

Benson was gone for now, but Rigby had no idea when he'd be back. Slowly standing from the couch, Rigby begins looking for his coat. It's nowhere to be found.

" Dammit," Rigby mutters, " where did he put my coat?"

" You weren't wearing it last night." Benson says from behind him. Rigby stops in his fruitless task of searching for his coat. He forces himself to look at Benson.

Benson, in blunt terms, looks like shit. There are bags under his eyes. He looked like he'd aged ten years overnight. His hair is a mess, like he'd ran his hand through it hundreds of times. Benson used to do that all the time, back during the resistance days, whenever he got nervous.

" D'you know where it is, by any chance?"

" You left it in the pub."

" Did you grab it?"

" Oh, yeah. Planning on leaving so soon?"

" I think I have to work."

" You said you didn't have to."

" When?"

" Last night. You told Margaret that she could stay as late as she wanted because you didn't have to work today."

" Oh." Right. He had said that. And it was true, he didn't have to work, but he didn't have another excuse to use. " So why are you so reluctant to let me leave?"

Benson sighs. " I figured you wanted to talk about last night."

" What is there to talk about?"

" About Mordecai."

He _knew_ it. " There's nothing to talk about. He's gone, that's all there is to it."

" Maybe not. I'm sure he's still kicking somewhere."

" If he was, then he'd be back by now."

" You never know what might happen. Mordecai's gotten through a lot. I'm sure he got through this, too. Maybe something's just keeping him from coming back."

 _Yeah, like being dead_ , Rigby thinks, but he holds his tongue.

" So what do you want to do about it, then?" Rigby already knew the answer.

" We should go look for him." There it was.

Rigby rolls his eyes. " We can't just drop everything and head to Finland, you know."

" Yeah, I know that. But I think we should start planning to go and look for him at some point."

" _We_? No, Benson. Absolutely not. You have fun with your escapade, but I am not going with you."

" Why not? If Mordecai's out there, don't you want to see him? We don't know what happened to him."

" Yeah we do. You just don't want to accept it."

" Rigby, I'm sure he's alive-"

" No. He's not. D'you know how fucking _dangerous_ it is to go as far as Finland? Not only does he have to pass through a shitton of kraut territory, but then his only allies in that area are anti-Soviets! And do you know what happens to anti-Soviets and anyone who associates themselves with them? They disappear! And I think even you understand that that isn't a good thing."

" Well, Mordecai's smart. He knows what he's doing."

" Look." Rigby's pissed off now. He doesn't want this. Doesn't need this. " Mordecai's probably dead. I'm sure he knew he wouldn't come home after leaving to find this friend of his. Don't start talking about how you're going to find him or whatever the fuck, because you know- don't look at me like that! You _know_ the truth, benson. You _know_ he's dead. Just accept it. That'll make things easier for you."

" Rigby. He's alive. I'm sure of it."

" What makes you think that? He may have come home in one piece plenty times before, but he's fucking dumb, Benson! This was a suicide mission and he knew it! He knew those krauts were looking for him, and he knew he was being an idiot for coming here, somewhere safe, and then leaving!"

Benson shakes his head. " You- you're wrong."

" Whatever. You keep living in fantasyland. When you come back to reality, you know where to find me." Rigby starts walking off.

" Where are you going?" Benson asks.

" Anywhere but here. You're insufferable." Rigby slams the door, leaving the apartment. He knew it was a harsh thing to say, but maybe it was what Benson needed. He didn't know. He didn't understand.

Damn. He needed a cigarette. And all of his cigarettes were in his coat pocket. His wallet and apartment key were also in his coat pockets, too…

The coat he just left in Benson's apartment.

Rigby leans against the apartment complex, feeling the cool Swiss air hit his face. He rubs his hands over his face, trying to warm it.

Switzerland was a cold, miserable place. He wasn't meant to live in the cold. He was far from used to it.

" Need a cigarette?" Someone next to him asks. Rigby looks over at the person, and although he recognizes the person, it takes him a moment longer to recognize that it is Gene.

" Yeah."

" I figured." Gene hands him a cigarette. Rigby takes it gratefully, and Gene lights it. " Heard you yelling at Ben up there." Rigby takes a puff off the cigarette and exhales. " Sounded particularly nasty."

Rigby shrugs. " He had it coming."

" He usually does. Funny, though, he's the one that's yelling most of the time." Rigby doesn't say anything. He didn't feel like talking. Gene, however, obviously felt differently.

" It was about his friend, wasn't it?" Gene asks.

" Friend? You mean Mordecai?"

" Yeah." Gene replies.

" Yeah. He went to Finland and Benson still thinks he's coming back."

" Yeesh." Gene winces. " Can't blame him."

" _Really_? But he should just be able to let go and try to move on."

" Easier said than done. Ben's dramatic, sure, but getting over someone you love is not easy for anyone, speaking from experience. And trust me, they loved each other a lot. Could hear them whenever his friend came to visit."

" Yeah. I heard it plenty of times, too." Gene chuckles at that. " It was pretty damn disgusting."

Gene changes the subject after that, something he is grateful for.

" I loved this one girl when I was younger. She was something else, I'll tell you. A real loose cannon, but she was ambitious. When she spoke, you listened. All that other cheesy bullshit."

" What happened to her?"

Gene takes another puff off of his cigarette and exhales slowly before speaking again. " I don't know."

" How could you not know?"

Gene shrugs. " We were living in Ireland. Once the war started up, though, she went back to London. I lost contact with her after the Blitz happened. Didn't dare look at the lists of casualties, because I already knew." Gene sighs. " I already knew." Takes another puff off his cigarette. Exhales. " I'm not the type to be a hopeless romantic or believe in any shitty love bullshit, or wax poetics or anything, don't get me wrong. But people like her only happen once in a lifetime. The world was going to ruins around us, but she was still able to see past that. She opened my eyes. She showed me the entire goddamn world. People like that only happen once. And you don't realize that until they're long gone. You can love plenty of people, but there's only one that's ever going to feel right, like you were _meant_ to spend your entire life with them."

Rigby doesn't know what to say. People usually said something along the lines of how sorry they were, but that didn't seem right. He really wasn't good in these situations. Funny enough, he'd been in a similar situation before. He was in one now, even. He hadn't wanted people to sugarcoat things, say how sorry they were for the loss.

Rigby had always hated that.

" What a shitty war," he finally says.

" What a shitty war." Gene agrees.

 **Additional Notes**

 **Death Notification** : Death Notifications are popular in media today, especially war movies. You ever seen a scene where someone comes to the door of someone's house to inform them that their husband/son/brother/etc has died in battle? That's a death notification.

 **Translation**

 _Coq bleu_ : Blue rooster. I don't know a drop of French, so if this is the incorrect translation, please tell me!


	6. Chapter 6

After polishing off his cigarette, Rigby walks to his apartment. Sure, he didn't have his key with him, but he could probably pick the lock. He was good enough at that. Besides, he wasn't going to swallow his pride and go ask Benson for his coat. Probably wouldn't even get it back because he knew Benson was remarkably petty.

Reaching his apartment, Rigby fumbles around, searching for a paperclip or anything that'd let him pick the lock. But luck wasn't on his side today, for there was nothing to be found. There usually was, but the floor was near spotless for once. Funny. Someone must have cleaned it for the first time since the complex had been built. So he would have to demand another key from his landlord, as if his day weren't horrid enough already.

His landlord was just like the other residents in the village. An older woman, she was cold, boring, and easily irritated. She bitched him out left and right, but in a rare moment of kindness gave him a spare.

In the apartment, Rigby collapsed onto the floor, both physically and emotionally exhausted. He'd been awake for probably an hour or so, but it felt as if he hadn't slept for days. He finds himself falling asleep rather quickly as if he hadn't slept in the first place.

And for the first time in what was a very long time, he found himself dreaming of the past.

 _He needed to be away from everyone, even if only for a few minutes. How could Mordecai possibly stand to listen to all this terrible news of his country? Rigby definitely couldn't handle it all the time. He never thought about what it was like back home and how the rest of his family was doing. That is, if they were still alive. Rigby doubted it. And what would life be like after the war ended? Things would definitely be different. Rigby likely wouldn't even be able to go home after the war. He probably wouldn't be able to see his family again, either. But he'd long since come to accept all that, way before this war started up._

 _The thought of what the future could possibly have in store for him was severely depressing._

 _Rigby steps out onto the roof, closing the window behind him. He sits down, and exhales._

" _You want a smoke?" Mordecai asks, and Rigby near jumps out of his skin._

" _You scared me. Jesus, don't do that again. And you know I don't smoke."_

" _Not even now?" Mordecai asks, lighting his cigarette. " How do you do it?"_

" _It's not that hard, you know." Rigby says. " You're just making a big deal out of nothing."_

" _You're one to talk. Remember when we were kids? The smallest things used to set you off."_

 _Rigby says nothing._

" _So do you really think things'll go back to normal after the war ends?" Rigby changes the topic, looking out into the night sky. Wartime didn't provide many peaceful moments such as this one, but when they came along, you really didn't want to miss it. Before the war, though, neither of them did things like this. They weren't really the stargazing soul-searching type of people. But the war had made them unrecognizable._

" _Not a pleasant answer," Mordecai takes a drag off his cigarette, " but no, probably not. Did you think it would?"_

" _No, that'd be stupid. Anyone who's still holding onto that won't last the war." Rigby replies._

" _Well, that's harsh." Mordecai replies._

" _Doesn't matter how harsh it is if it's true."_

" _I suppose." Mordecai replies. " It's a rather depressing reality, isn't it?"_

" _Yeah." Rigby says._

" _What do you want to do after this is all over?" Mordecai asks after a few moments._

" _I don't know." Rigby says. " Never really thought about the war ending." That's what he'd known for most of his life; war. Didn't matter which one it was, he'd long since lost hope of a better world._

" _I just want things to be like they were before." Mordecai says._

" _That won't happen." Rigby says. He can't blame Mordecai for being so naïve, but God, it pissed him off sometimes. He was in the heart of a resistance, he knew what was going on. Surely he must have known that the damage done was irreversible._

" _Sure it will!" Mordecai says. " We just have to get through this."_

 _Rigby rolls his eyes. " It's not that easy, you know. Not everything will go back to being all golden and happy and shit."_

" _Why are you getting so mad?"_

" _Because you're wrong!"_

" _How would you know?"_

 _Rigby falls silent. He wasn't going to talk about that. " Never mind."_

" _No. You wanted to say something. Say it."_

" _No. Just drop it, Mordecai. It's not important."_

" _It's not about this one, is it?" Mordecai gives him a knowing look as Rigby glares at him._

" _I told you to fuck off about it."_

" _So it is." Mordecai says._

 _He doesn't say anything. Frankly, it pissed him off severely that Mordecai thought he could just talk about Guernica. He couldn't. Sure, Mordecai had been there during the summer months when they were growing up, but he wasn't there when the place got bombed to shit. He'd been long gone. Hadn't seen any of it. None of the carnage. He'd seen that now, but he was older. Rigby had been much younger, then, and it was so devastating knowing that your childhood had been taken from-_

His eyes snap open. Had someone just been knocking on his door? He heard the noise again. _Yeah_. Still was, Rigby realized, rubbing his eyes and stepping out of bed. Rushing to open his door, he was surprised to see Margaret standing there, same old notebook clutched to her chest.

" Hi." Margaret smiles at him. " You weren't at the pub today," she says, picking up on his confusion.

 _Oh. Right._ Rigby steps aside, allowing Margaret to enter. " I wasn't working today." He says, closing the door.

" Do you mind if I sit?"

" Not to be rude, but why are you here?" Rigby asks.

" To interview you."

Rigby sighs, " look, Margaret, I get that this is important to you and all, but-"

" This is a bad time, isn't it?" She doesn't sound sad, but rather, understanding, " do you want to talk about it?"

He really didn't want to talk about it. He hardly knew Margaret, and it wasn't her business.

But maybe she'd understand.

After all, she had known Mordecai. And she _had_ hinted at going through some things during the war, and Rigby was sure it was true. If she'd fled during the blitz like she'd said, then she was probably being honest.

" Alright, fine. But don't go telling people. And _don't_ write any of this down. You're not interviewing me. You're just going to listen." He knows he's being harsh, but he's not in the mood to take a stab at being civil.

" Okay." Slowly, Margaret moves to occupy a chair.

" So I was born in Spain. I was being honest about that part. For some of my childhood, there was a war going on in my country, though I didn't really know what was going on. My parents did what they could to hide it from my brother and I. It was one of those topics we knew not to approach, that they would discuss when they assumed us asleep. There were plenty of times, though, where I overheard them talking about fleeing, though they were never able to come up with a solid plan. And then…" Rigby suddenly trails off, staring off into space. Margaret attempts to grab his attention, to bring him back, but nothing works. His mind is in another place; one he has not revisited for years, a time that he has gone to great lengths to smother. Those who had an idea of his past never breached it, and for that, he was thankful. But now, he was vulnerable, and therefore unable to prevent himself from having flashbacks. He is now a child, living in what he considers his last day of naivety, his introduction of a war that he was too young to understand or experience.

It was a warm day in April…

 _He remembers the day like it was yesterday._

 _The war had raged on for years now. Rigby could barely remember a life before it, before his parents constantly spoke about topics he was too young to understand behind closed doors, in hushed tones. Then, he felt like the war was in all aspects of his life._

 _He had no idea what fate had in store for him._

 _That day had been like any other, at first. He'd been home alone, while his parents and Don were at the marketplace._

 _The church bells had been ringing, an alarm, warning the residents to hide. Nobody really paid it any heed. They thought they would be safe. Their home had been on the outskirts of town, close enough that they could hear the church bells ringing, but not close enough to be at the heart of the damage._

 _Then came the roaring of planes overhead, followed by a series of booms that shook him to his very core._

 _Rigby hadn't known it at the time, but he later learned that the sounds were the explosions of bombs._

 _The entire town was being ravaged just above his head._

 _Rigby relived this experience now, briefly. For a few seconds, he's huddled in a corner, head in his hands. He vaguely remembered praying. He was stuck there for a while. It wasn't until the sun began setting that his uncle had walked into the home. Rigby had heard him rustling about the house for a while before finally finding him huddled in a corner._

" _Get up," His uncle had said. " It's over."_

" _Where are mama and papa? And Don?" Rigby had asked, voice hoarse from sobbing._

 _Their uncle was silent for a few moments. Rigby knew that whatever had happened to them wasn't good. He'd looked to the heavens for a few moments, whispering a prayer before looking Rigby in the eyes._

" _They're dead."_

" Rigby? Rigby!" Margaret shakes him and snaps him back to the present. Rigby stares at her with wide eyes, as if she'd seen it all happen.

" Are you okay?" Margaret asks him, her features filled with concern.

" Wha- uhm, yeah. I'm fine." Rigby brushes her off and shifts away from her touch.

" You're pale." Margaret says.

" It's no big deal, Margaret, I'm fine. What were we talking about?"

" And you spaced out for five minutes."

" Drop it. Let's just get back to what we were talking about before. Which was…?"

Margaret sighs, " you were telling me about your past. You were just talking about a war, when you- oh. _Oh_."

" Do you need me to fill in the rest of the dots, or are we on the same page now?" Rigby asks.

" I'm… I'm _so_ _sorry_ , Rigby."

" Oh God. Don't pity me, Margaret, it's fine."

" Your family died, didn't they?"

" Margaret, I said to drop it! You know what? I change my mind. I think it's best if you leave."

" Rigby, I-"

" No. Stop it. Just…. Just leave. Okay? I don't want to deal with you right now."

" I- alright." Margaret stands, blatantly dissatisfied. " You'll be better off if you talk with someone about it. But if you don't, I understand." As Margaret leaves the apartment, she adds, " I lost someone important too, you know."

* * *

The night to follow is a slow one. Though the pub had started out busy, all the hustle and bustle had died down hours ago as it got later. Rigby had never been more bored in his life.

Though it did provide him with ample time to sort out his current predicament, he was doing everything in his power to avoid it. He'd swept the floor and wiped down the tables three times now…. He was sure that he could see his reflection in each table, a statement he'd never thought he'd be making about this pub.

He was thankful for Skips' company, though that wasn't saying much. The man wasn't the best conversationalist, and if Rigby didn't know any better, he'd think that the man disliked him. He'd gotten to know Skips since being hired, and he wasn't too bad. He and Rigby just had different philosophies and ways to handle things. Where Rigby was a procrastinator that liked to rush into things, Skips was more hesitant and liked to solve problems as soon as possible.

And currently, that was an issue. Because while Skips didn't know about the conversation Rigby had had with Margaret earlier, he _had_ overheard the one he'd had with Benson. And now Skips wanted Rigby to come up with a solution.

But he just wasn't having it. Instead, he'd spent the past few hours trying to talk about literally _anything else_. Even the weather was a fair topic.

He's suddenly struck with the realization that he has no idea who Skips is. He'd always been a man of mystery to Rigby. The sole similarities he knew of were that they weren't from here (though Rigby didn't know where Skips was from, originally), and their occupation, Other than that, he didn't know much.

So this provoked the question of "So, Skips, what's your life story?"

" My story? Yeah, like I'm going to tell you that." Skips says.

" Oh, come on! Please?"

" No."

" Why not?" Rigby asks.

" It's none of your business. I don't need to tell you, anyways."

" Well that's pretty damn uppity! C'mon, what were you before? Where were you from? You weren't a kraut, were you?"

" No," Skips replies, " a revolutionary. But that's all I'm saying."

" Where were you from?" Rigby presses. " Not that it matters, but I'm curious. I've never known where your accent's from."

" ...Netherlands." Skips replies.

" Oh, really? Hmm. Interesting. You know, you struck me more for one of those-"

" Scandinavian types? That's what everyone says."

" Well, it's true." Rigby says.

Suddenly, Gene throws the door open and approaches the bar, cursing remarkably loudly. Rigby straightens, knowing that whatever he has to say is important, seeing how it's three in the morning. Or he's drunk. But whatever it was, it likely required his full attention.

" What's going on?" Rigby asks.

" He's gone." Gene says.

" What? You'll need to be more specific than that."

" Benson. We got into a fight. He ran off. I don't think he's coming back."

" How can you be so sure?" Rigby asks.

" I just know. He usually storms back into his apartment whenever we argue, but I watched him leave with a suitcase a few hours ago."

" You could have stopped him, you know." Skips points out. He was clearly used to this display, of Gene stopping by in all hours of the night.

" I tried! But he goddamn bit me! See!" Gene holds up his wrist, showing off what is irrefutably a line of teeth marks. Particularly nasty ones at that. Rigby and Skips wince.

" He drew blood," Gene adds.

" Did he say where he was going?" Skips asks.

" I think he said he was going to Finland." Gene says.

" Oh, fuck." Rigby groans, " of _course_ he did! Only that idiot could rush into things in such a way!"

Gene and Skips give him confused looks, and Rigby sighs, knowing that it is up to him to explain everything. He'd skim and only provide the essential details, he decided. " We decoded Mordecai's last letter. Said he was going to Finland. That's our lead right now."

" Ohhhh." Gene and Skips say at the same time.

" Well that explains that. So, when are we going to go get him, now that we know what he's up to?" Gene asks.

" We are not doing anything. He's on his own." Rigby says, " there's no way any of us are gonna convince him to come back, anyways."

" We should still look out for him. Who knows what he'll do when he gets there and…" Skips doesn't have to finish his sentence.

In that moment, Rigby spaces out again. This memory, though, is much more recent, taking place during the war. He and Mordecai are talking about one individual in particular. It was more of a one-sided conversation, this one, as Mordecai was ranting and Rigby was merely listening. It wasn't uncommon, as Rigby was the sole being Mordecai trusted to discuss his trials and tribulations in-depth. The one bothering him this time? Benson. Again.

 _Mordecai's been pacing back and forth for awhile now. He hasn't said a single word, but he occasionally looks down at the letter, huffs, and goes back to pacing._

" _Okay, that's enough. What's eating you?" Rigby asks._

 _Mordecai turns to face him and explodes, " it's Benson! Look at what he wrote me!"_

 _Rigby snatches the letter from Mordecai, " I'm sure it's not worth getting so worked up about."_

 _Though as Rigby reads over the letter, he understands Mordecai's outburst. Benson had written him a letter, all right… a remarkably blunt one at that. All-in-all, Benson had written front-to-back on a piece of paper, using every inch to describe where he was headed, as well as how badly their breakup was… and what Benson hated about Mordecai, which he "hadn't realized until a period of heavy reflection". Though Rigby agreed with some of the things Benson said, he knows he can't say it aloud. They were things that Mordecai_ did _need to hear at one point or another, but this was just… immature._

" _Oh, damn. That's harsh." Rigby says, unsure of what else to say. " What are you going to do about it?"_

" _What do you mean? I'm not going to do anything about it. Benson can have fun in Switzerland. I don't care anymore." Rigby just knows his heart isn't in the statement._

" _You still love him, don't you?" Rigby asks. Mordecai doesn't answer the question, instead going on a long-winded rant._

" _Well, he wasn't perfect either! He was always so angry and irrational, constantly holding grudges over the dumbest things. You remember when he wouldn't talk to me for a few days because I forgot to meet him at the pub like I'd promised? He did shit like that all the time! He was so quick to anger, and he seemed so disappointed with me! I know he had everything all thought out and wanted things to go a different way, but that was hardly my fault! I didn't have a say in any of it! I just wanted to protect our home! I felt terrible for not being able to do anything about it, I know how much he wanted to leave France and do bigger and better things with me, but that just wasn't going to happen! I wasn't going to leave everything behind! It's unfair of him to hold me to such high expectations, you know? I just," Mordecai slumps down into a chair and sighs, " I just don't know what to do."_

 _It's the first time Rigby's seen him so distraught over something. And over Benson of all people. They'd always been polar opposites. Rigby knew they weren't going to last the war. Benson was always talking about leaving, and Mordecai would always change the subject. When Mordecai got tied up in resistance efforts, they couldn't spend much time together._

 _Maybe in another time, another place, but here, in the heat of the war? It just wasn't meant to last._

" _You still love him, though, don't you?" Rigby asks._

" _Yeah." Mordecai mutters, " I guess I do." Putting his head in his hands, he adds, " I'm worried about him."_

" Rigby." Skips snaps him out of it. Rigby splutters in shock as Skips asks if he's okay.

" Yeah." Rigby replies, " so are you guys gonna go get him?"

" We all are." Skips says. Rigby rolls his eyes.

" Why am i being dragged into this? I'm not going."

" Yes you are," Skips replies sternly, " you need to apologize." Noticing Rigby's confusion, he adds, " he came in here earlier and told me what you said earlier. Seemed pretty distraught."

" Well he had it coming," Rigby says.

Skips sighs, " that may be true, but you went about it wrong. He's not doing well, Rigby."

Rigby looks at Gene for support, but receives none.

" It's none of my business," Gene remarks, shrugging.

Knowing when to accept defeat, Rigby asks what the plan is.

" I'll have the new employee fill in for the next few days. I have an old favor to cash in, so maybe he can help us get there."

" Does he have a car or something?" Rigby asks.

" No. But he knows people all over Europe. I'm sure he can help out." Skips says, " he used to stop in here during the war and meet with his connections."

" So then where is he?" Rigby asks.

" Austria."

" Really? We're going to Muscleman to help? Chrissakes, you must be pretty damn desperate." Gene remarks, and Skips gives him a flat look that makes him go silent.

" We're going with Muscleman because he's our best option. He's closer than any of the other connections that are still both alive and reliable. We'll work with it."

"Well, alright then!" gene claps his hands together and leaves saying he'll be back in an hour before sauntering off, too damn happy.

Skips and Rigby exchange a look that implies that neither of them want Gene to join them. But they'll adapt.

They've gotten good at that.

* * *

 _As summer draws to a close_

 _Rigby continues to act morose_

 _Benson, meanwhile, has gone to Finland_

 _In search of his beloved; though the trip was unplanned_

 _Another emerges; a former revolutionary from the fray_

 _Though their identity remains in the dark, they may possibly save the day_

 _Now come close and listen in,_

 _For part two is about to begin_

* * *

 **12,421 words later, and here we are at the end. There were some points where I thought I wasn't going to finish this story, but I'm really glad that I did. It's the first story I've ever been able to see all the way through, and I'm proud of that. It's such a surreal feeling, publishing this. When I first came up with the concept of a WW2 AU, I was a freshman in high school. As we speak, I am in the final week of my junior year. When I first published this story a year and a half or so ago, my writing style was remarkably different than it is now. It's interesting looking back on it all and seeing how much I've improved (not to mention how cringe-worthy it is to read old writing and find all of your old errors and poorly-worded sentences). I've changed a lot as a person since writing the very first words, and I'm happy for that. I've changed a lot, and that is something I never thought possible. For the first time in years I'm satisfied with where I am in life. I've had closure with various things that I never thought I'd be able to get over. I'm not perfect, nobody is, but I've accepted that now.**

 **I'm really looking forward to continuing, but I won't spoil anything just yet.**

 **Thank you all for reading and being patient with my erratic updating schedule. I know it wasn't easy to put up with, but thanks to all that stuck with this story.**

 **bolinky4/primordial mayfly/hannoyoko.**


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